


Fever Dream

by paperxcrowns



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Brother Acquisition, Accidental Cuddling, Enemy to Caretaker, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd-centric, Nightmares, Not Really Character Death, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake-centric, Titans Tower au, back at it with the titans tower aus lmaoo, jason probably doesn't need a hug but gets one anyways lol, no beta we die like jason todd, the second half mainly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperxcrowns/pseuds/paperxcrowns
Summary: Tim has a nightmare. Unfortunately, this happens to be the day Jason decides to show up at Titans Tower and officially meet the new Robin.Things don't quite go according to plan, and Jason still doesn't know where it went wrong.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 23
Kudos: 507
Collections: Red Hood vs Red Robin





	Fever Dream

**Author's Note:**

> i told people on discord i'd have this out two days ago. i formally apologize, firstly it was longer than i expected. but it's here now, so (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Tim was standing in the wreckage of a building. He couldn’t tell what kind of a building it was because all that remained were the cement and steel foundations, smoke curling up from all around, dense enough that it hid the sky and Tim’s surroundings. The sun couldn’t pierce through the smoke.

“Hello?” he called out. 

“Tim?” Kon asked, voice muffled.

“Kon?” Tim called out in turn, spinning around, trying to find where his best friend was.

He turned around and came face to face with Kon, emerging from the smoke, waving his arm in the air, trying to dispel the smoke.

Tim jogged up to him. “Where are the others?”

Kon shrugged. “Don’t know. Lost complete track of them in the smoke. There might be more of them coming, so be ready.”

Tim raised his staff. Them? No. No, he knew why they were here. He knew what they were.

“After you, captain,” Kon said with a grin, bowing deeply.

Tim scoffed and shoved Kon. “Just follow me and try not to get lost.”

“Sure thing!” 

Kon grabbed hold of Tim’s hand and it took effort for Tim to not stop dead in his tracks. He couldn’t do anything about the blush, however. 

He ducked his head low and marched on, bo staff gripped tightly in one hand.

The smoke surrounding them was tinted a dusty yellow by the rays of afternoon sun trying to filter through. The smoke-- smoke or fog?-- was dense enough that Tim couldn’t even see the ground beneath his feet.

“Kon--” he started, turning around only to be greeted with empty air.

There was nothing. Kon wasn’t there. But that wasn’t right. He’d been holding his hand. Tim was sure he hadn’t let go.

He turned around, fog surrounding him. His heartbeat skipped faster.

“Kon!” he yelled, the fog completely swallowing it up.

Tim was completely alone. No. No, he wasn’t. Kon had said the others were here. So they had to be around. They had to be close.

He stumbled into the fog, trying to find his team-- his  _ friends. _ They wouldn’t just leave him.

He saw a shape just ahead and almost cried in relief when he saw the familiar reddish-brown of Bart’s hair.

“Bart!” he called, all but running towards his friend.

The fog parted before Tim’s eyes and Bart turned around. Tim stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at his friend in mounting horror. 

“Bart…” 

There were bullet holes all over Bart’s body, peppering his chest and his forehead, all of them bleeding sluggishly, dripping down his face and on his goggles. The white of his suit was almost completely red. 

“Where were you?” Bart asked.

Tim flinched. “I’m sorry--”

“It’s too late for that. They’re all dead.”

Tim’s chest constricted and his head spun. “No--” 

“You’re the team leader,” Bart snapped, taking a step forward. “And you weren’t here.”

“I-- I didn’t-- Bart, I promise I didn’t--”

He looked up but Bart wasn’t staring at him furiously anymore. He was laying limp on the dusty ground, covered in so much blood. Too much blood. It was staining the ground and the fog an ugly crimson red. A couple of feet away Tim saw the shape of Kon’s body, his arms and legs bent at unnatural angles and his eyes staring up at the sky blankly. Cassie was lying beside him, too much blood covering her body for Tim to make out how she died.

The silence surrounding Tim was deafening. 

“No,” he mumbled mutely. 

He fell to his knees next to Kon soundlessly, his hands shaking, his lungs tightening, making it harder to breathe. He struggled for air, gasping desperately while trying to stop the tears.

“Please,” he mumbled past numb lips, his hands reaching up to Kon’s chest, hoping that it wasn’t too late. 

It  _ couldn’t _ be too late. It  _ wasn’t. _ He could save Kon. he could save Cassie. He could save Bart. he could save his  _ friends. _

He had to save them. They couldn’t just die and leave Tim to live with that. They couldn’t die. Tim was the human on the team. He was the pone most prone to getting killed in the field. This wasn’t-- this wasn’t how this was supposed to play out. They were never the ones who were supposed to  _ die.  _

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, tears running down his flushed cheeks. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be you.”

His hands were red. His green pants were stained dark from the blood. This was Kon’s blood. Probably Bart’s too. And Cassie’s. The blood of his dead friends. 

He wanted to scream, to shout, to let his anguish out as loudly as he could, but nothing came out of his mouth. 

He just gripped Kon’s leather jacket in his shaking hands and powered his head, the tears falling, dripping down his nose and onto Kon’s still chest.

Tim wasn’t in the fog anymore. He was standing in the Batcave, the sudden chill after the choking warmth of the fog making him shiver. 

When had he gotten here?

Why was he here? Where-- oh. His team was dead.

They were dead and it was all Tim’s fault. Batman was standing in front of him, glowering at him hard enough that Tim shrunk in on himself but didn’t dare break eye contact. Keeping his eyes trained on the ground only made adults angrier. 

“You can’t be Robin anymore,” Batman said, looming over Tim menacingly, his shadow completely enveloping Tim.

“No--” 

“You failed the mission. You failed your friends. You failed  _ me. _ Why would I keep you?”

Tim briefly wondered if he was going to hit him. His parents did when he disobeyed. 

Batman just stared at him impassively. “Maybe that is your fault.”

Tim was speechless. “No,” he said. “No. No, it’s-- it’s not. It’s  _ not.” _

“You are team leader. This was your team. You killed them, and you can’t even take responsibility?”

Tim flinched. “No, you can’t--”

You can’t take this away from me. Life was so lonely before Robin. He couldn’t-- he couldn’t leave this. He couldn’t go back. 

“Robin was never yours,” Batman growled. “You were a placeholder. I never chose you.”

Tim flinched again, feeling as if he’d been slapped. No, getting slapped would have been preferable to Batman’s words.

“You killed your friends, you cannot be Robin.”

“I can’t be Robin,” Tim muttered to himself, his hands twisting in his hair, pulling at it slightly. “I can’t--”

He seemed to lose his footing. Or maybe the ground simply vanished. The Cave was gone. The fog was gone, and Tim was falling and falling. Falling into gaping darkness, swallowing him whole. 

He wasn’t expecting to land. He was expecting to keep falling, to keep despairing over losing Robin and his friends all in one night. Hitting the ground startled him right out of his thoughts as everything fuzzed and went dark.

Tim’s eyes flew open as he startled awake.

“It was a dream,” he mumbled, his body still only half awake. “It’s not real. It’s not--”

He choked off, hot tears already streaking down his face. He wiped them with a trembling hand. It still felt  _ so  _ real. 

He stayed there for a few minutes, rolled over on his side, one elbow braced on the cushions, breathing in deeply to calm his racing heart and force the panic away.

“It was just a nightmare,” he mumbled, fumbling for the light. “It wasn’t real.”

He kept muttering it over and over again until he felt himself calm down. His hands were still shaking uncontrollably and there was still a pressure in his chest, but the panic was slowly receding. He wasn’t dreaming. This was real life. He was on a couch in Titans Tower, loose papers crumpled beneath him when he’d shifted restlessly in his sleep and on the ground because he’d-- yes, he remembered. He’d fallen asleep while writing up his mission report in one of the living rooms. 

He sat up, his legs shaking just as much as his hands and stood up he wobbled a bit for the first few steps but eventually found his footing.

He ran his hand along the walls of the hallway leading to the staircase that led to the floor where all the bedrooms were located. Where his team was sleeping peacefully.

He just needed to make sure.

He kept his hand on the wall, needing to feel something solid to make sure he wasn’t falling anymore. To make sure this was real. That this wasn’t another dream.

Descartes was the one who’d said ‘I think, therefore I am’, implying that Tim theoretically couldn’t think while dreaming, but could Tim really trust his thoughts? The dreams had felt real. This could just be another nightmare where he’d find his friends dead again and himself completely alone. Trying to find a rational explanation to prove to himself that he wasn’t dreaming was proving to be challenging.

He reached Kon’s room, but paused with his hand on the doorknob.

He’d seen him dead once tonight. Could he really handle seeing it a second time? Maybe a third, if this was what he was plagued to dream about until someone woke him up. 

Tim sniffled and wiped away any remaining tears, trying to force the new ones away. He just needed to see his best friend sleeping in his bed, alive and well. That was all Tim needed.

So what if he really wanted a hug or any sort of physical contact with someone at the moment? He’d had plenty of nightmares before. He’d wanted hugs plenty of times before. He could power through this on his own. There was no need to wake anyone up.

Tim twisted the handle and pushed the door open, dread pooling in his stomach as he peered inside.

He sagged against the door when he saw Kon in his bed, the sheets twisted around his legs, his head hidden under a mountain of fluffy pillows. His chest was rising and falling steadily and Tim almost started crying again.

He quickly backed up into the hall, shutting the door behind him as quietly as he could, before making his way to Bart’s room. His composure was already quickly slipping.

He was still slightly reluctant to open Bart’s door, but marginally more sure that he’d find Bart asleep and alive. 

He peeked inside, finding Bart completely cocooned in his blankets in the middle of his bed and smiled at the sight, ignoring the urge to walk up to him and make sure he was real and not a hallucination. 

His eyes stung and a lump formed in his throat as he closed the door and made his way to Cassie’s room at the very end of the hall, completely ignoring the other Titans’ rooms. Most of them could still be awake and on the other floors of the tower, but that mattered little to Tim.

He pushed open Cassie’s door. The first thing he heard was her snoring softly. It was the most comforting sound in the world. She was alive. She was alive, and breathing, and not dead at his feet. 

Tim shut her door, not wanting to wake her up as he quietly broke down in tears. He leaned against the wall of the hallway, trying to calm his hyperventilating a little.

“They’re fine,” he muttered. “They’re all fine. They’re all fine.”

The words didn’t help much, but he needed to repeat them to believe them. They were fine. He was still Robin. No one was dead.

He heard the familiar hiss of a door opening in the distance and pushed off the wall in a panic. He couldn’t let the Titans couldn’t see him like  _ this.  _ He was Robin. He was the leader of a team. He was trying to live up to Dick and Jason. Neither of them would ever let themselves be caught in a moment of weakness like this. Certainly not as a Robin. 

He wiped his eyes and made his way down the hall towards the kitchen. He used to go down to the kitchen in Drake Manor and make himself tea or hot chocolate when he woke up from a nightmare. It always took his mind off of it. 

He just needed to get his mind off of the nightmare. Because it wasn’t real. Because this was real. This wasn’t a dream. 

He carefully shut the kitchen door behind him before flipping the lights on and adjust them on the lowest setting and making his way towards the counter. 

He filled up the electric kettle and took out his ceramic mug and a herbal tea bag while the water boiled.

He was trying his best to suppress the tears, to repeat to himself that everything was okay, but it didn’t go away. He was five minutes away from completely breaking down in the kitchen and he doubted he’d e able to make it back to his bedroom to avoid having anyone walk in on him.

He was watching his tea steep when the tears resurfaced. He crouched down, promising himself that he just needed a few moments to compose himself.

He was a Drake. He was in control of his emotions,  _ they _ didn’t control  _ him. _

He was perfectly fine.

So why did he feel like he was falling apart, tearing open at the seams? Why couldn't he stop crying?

* * *

Jason was expecting a lot of things when he showed up at Titans Tower in full Red Hood gear. He’d expected the Replacement to put up a fight. He’d expected the Replacement to attempt to contact Batman, his team. He expected to _enjoy_ hurting the Replacement, to derive satisfaction from hurting Bruce by showing him that his own kids weren’t safe even surrounded by superheroes.

His first surprise was how easy it was to break into the tower and subdue everyone who wasn’t already asleep. 

Either all of the Titans had a god complex the size of the Empire State Building and thought they were untouchable in their little home base or they were really just that stupid. It didn’t matter, because it worked in Jason’s favor that they hadn’t changed the tower codes since Jason’s death.

He crept down the halls of the tower as quietly as he could, seeking out the Replacement’s room first. He found it empty; he’d expected that but it was always worth checking.

He could practically taste the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He was going to make Bruce pay. He was finally going to make the Replacement pay. He was finally going to be able to relieve the rage of seeing another kid in the colors of a dead Robin shadowing the Batman. 

He didn’t find the Replacement in the briefing room, the mission room, _or_ in any of the numerous training rooms, and he was starting to get frustrated.

“Where the hell is he?” he muttered under his breath, rounding another corner.

If the kid was going to make him check _every_ room in the Tower to find him, Jason was going to be _pissed._

He poked his head in the kitchen-- the damned blueprints of the fucking Tower were burned into his brain from staring at it so often for so long-- and paused when he caught the shaking figure sitting in a corner of the kitchen.

Of all the things Jason had expected and prepared himself for, seeing the Replacement curled up on the kitchen floor of Titans Tower, muffling sobs into his arms while a steaming mug of tea steeping on the counter was not one of them. 

He stared in surprise, unsure how to proceed.

He’d done _everything_ right. He’d planned meticulously, hacking into the Tower’s database, checking mission logs, schedules, news reports, finding the perfect opportunity, the best time to strike. 

He’d picked today because he _knew_ the mission had gone off without a hitch. He _knew_ it had been a hard battle and everyone would come back worn and exhausted and the Replacement would stay up late finishing up the mission report. Jason _knew_ that.

So why the hell was the kid breaking down at two in the morning in the middle of an empty kitchen wearing only half of his Robin suit?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, fully stepping into the kitchen.

He walked up to Tim and glared down at him. The kid was going to ruin Jason’s plan. The plan he’d spent _months_ preparing. 

“Hey.” Jason nudged the Replacement with the toe of his boot. 

He lifted his head wearily from where he’d dropped it in his crossed arms and squinted at Jason. He looked like a fucking mess, Jason had to give him that. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks blotchy and stained with drying tears and the bags under his eyes were even more pronounced than _Jason’s._

“Who’re you?” he asked.

Jason blinked and almost wondered if this kid really was Robin or just _that_ out of it. The Red Hood had been targeting Batman and specifically Robin for _months._ It was a definite blow to Jason’s pride, but he chalked it up to the kid clearly still recovering from what seemed to have been one _hell_ of a nightmare.

“Santa,” he snapped sarcastically.

Tim frowned. “Where’s the beard, then?”

This felt like an insult. But the kid was clearly too out of it for it to be an actual insult. Jason still felt insulted and highly offended.

“I’m the Red Hood,” he snapped. 

Realization dawned on the kid’s face, but no fear. Nada. This fucking kid was ruining Jason’s moment.

“D’you-- want tea or something?”

Jason stared at the kid, who was still looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. He cursed every single god he could name and a few other choice people and sat down in front of the Replacement. 

“Why the hell are you crying?” he snapped.

The kid flinched. “A nightmare,” he mumbled. 

Jason rolled his eyes. “Well that narrows it down.”

Could he still pass this whole situation off as some weird hallucination and come back another time to enact his revenge? He was quite attached to his plan, and wasn’t really in the mood to bother with making a new one.

The kid tightened his white knuckle grip on his red tunic, his eyes unfocused. “I checked,” he said.

Jason quirked an eyebrow. “Checked what?”

“I checked on them.” his hands dropped from his knees down to his ankles, tugging at the hem of his green leggings. “All of them. They were okay. They were breathing. And alive. So why am I not okay?”

Because he’d just seen his friends die. And even if they were okay, no one could be okay after a nightmare like that. Must be the kid’s first if it shook him this much.

“It’s not the first time,” the kid went on, taking Jason’s assumption and throwing it right out the window. “I can usually deal with it alone. But--”

Alone. Not with Bruce, because this kid had fucking _parents._ What the hell was wrong with Bruce? At least, if this one died or got hurt, it would have more importance than Jason’s death.

“Okay, so you’re just going to let it ruin your night?” Jason demanded, making the kid flinch again.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. He _knew_ that reaction. And he _knew_ it didn’t come from being Robin. And despite Bruce’s _many_ flaws, he didn’t hurt kids.

Jason scowled. This kid was making it hard to hate him the longer Jason spent with him.

He stood up, fully ready to leave and come back when the kid wasn’t a blubbering mess of tears on the kitchen floor. 

The kid scrambled up to his feet and grabbed hold of Jason’s leather jacket, tears still dripping freely down his face, a look of pure terror on his face.

“W-wait! Where are you going?”

Jason scowled. “Home. There’s no need for me to be here anymore.”

“Don’t leave me, too,” he pleaded, fingers curling tighter to hide the trembling.

That gave Jason pause. _‘Too’?_ Goddamit, this was _not_ what he’d come here to do.

That single moment of hesitation was the cue the kid took to throw his arms around Jason’s chest and finally let the dam break open.

“Oh okay,” Jason mumbled, unsure of what to really do.

He’d planned on breaking this kid’s bones, not have him cry on his Kevlar suit. He was seriously starting to regret giving that sleeping drug to the other Titans and the Replacement’s team. Granted, at the time, he’d wanted to spend as much time hurting the kid as he could. 

“Let me go,” he growled. “Stop-- stop touching me.”

It didn’t take much effort to pry the kid’s noodle arms off of him and the kid’s disappointed whine and pitiful sniffling didn’t affect Jason _at all._ Nothing. He did _not_ like this kid.

He backed away, glaring viciously at the kid before glancing at his suit. Once he’d done inspecting the damage-- just a wet patch on his Kevlar, thankfully nothing on his leather jacket-- he looked back up at the Replacement. The kid had wrapped his arms around his middle and had his eyes planted firmly on the ground.

With one last glare, Jason stormed towards the kitchen door, absolutely _refusing_ to deal with any of this.

“Wait,” the Replacement said, his eyes now staring at Jason’s helmet. “It’s-- I’m really sorry about--” He ducked his head again, his cheeks bright pink. “I won’t try to hug you again, but please stay?”

Jason almost asked the kid to repeat himself because there was no way he’d heard that right. He’d asked him to _stay?_

“Why the hell would I do that?” 

The kid’s hopeful expression shuttered and he staggered back. “It’s fine,” he mumbled. “Sorry.” 

Jason could do whatever he wanted. The Replacement was asking him to stay? 

“Bother one of your friends,” Jason growled. “I didn’t come here to help you.”

The kid flinched again. “I can’t bother them,” he said.

Jason was completely mystified by that statement. “But it’s okay to bother _me?”_

The Replacement shrugged. “Well you’re not real, so--”

Jason spluttered. _“Excuse me?”_

Tim shrugged helplessly. “I’m probably asleep. Or just really tired and seeing things. ‘S not the first time, anyways. Just please don’t leave? At least until it’s not dark anymore, please.”

There were so many things wrong with that statement, but Jason was still reeling from the fact that this little shithead apparently thought he was a fucking _hallucination._

The kid had hugged him. He’d offered him tea. He was going to have to leave the Titans a sticky-note reminding them to get him drug tested.

“No. Bother your friends. I’m out.”

The kid’s shoulders slumped as Jason stormed out of the kitchen, cursing this kid, and whatever nightmare he’d had that had completely ruined Jason’s perfectly well-crafted plan. 

He stormed down the first flight of stairs then paused on the landing of the first floor. He could very much leave, simply walk out of the tower and restore the power and pretend as if nothing had happened. The kid sure wasn’t going to say anything-- he thought Jason was a figment of his half-asleep brain-- and every camera in the tower was shut off. It would look like a power blackout, nothing alarming. 

But Jason couldn’t get the stupid kid’s face out of his mind. 

He didn’t deserve nightmares. He’d seen _nothing._ Not like _Jason,_ at least. He came from a rich family. He’d lived in Bristol his whole life. Jason knew for a fact that Bruce and Dick did everything they could to keep the Replacement out of the Joker’s sights and rarely let him patrol alone. He hadn’t seen what Jason had seen. He hadn’t _died,_ or woken up in his own grave, six feet in the ground. 

But shouldn’t Jason be the first person not to judge people based on their appearance? The kid had been Jason’s age when he’d become Robin, give or take a few months. He was fifteen. He was how old Jason had been when he’d died and his death hadn’t been avenged.

Jason didn’t have any empathy for Timothy Jackson Drake, Robin number three, wearing the bright colors of a dead kid. He didn’t, because he was the replacement Robin, because he’d taken Jason’s colors not even six months after his death and Bruce had _let him._

Jason was only here to prove what Bruce and Dick clearly still couldn’t understand. That Robin wasn’t magic, Robin was death and pain, and should have stayed buried under the rubble in that Ethiopian warehouse.

Jason slammed his fist into the wall, just barely denting it before spinning on his heels and stalking back up the stairs.

The kid didn’t want to bother his own team. The kid was afraid of the fucking dark. The kid was _fifteen._

It was Bruce Jason should have gone after. 

The kid wasn’t in the kitchen, but the mug of tea was still sitting on the counter, forgotten. It was cold by now and so dark Jason could only imagine how bitter it must be by now.

He checked the first living room on this floor, just three rooms from the kitchen, and found the kid curled up on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his eyes fixed on the TV. He vaguely recognized the movie playing as National Treasure only because Dick loved action movies and always somehow managed to rope Jason into watching them with him.

Jason unclasped his helmet and pulled it off his head with a sigh. The Replacement had managed to thwart his plan without even doing anything. 

Really, Jason did this to himself. 

He should have just left when he saw the kid sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor.

He sat on the opposite end of the couch, still not fully trusting himself not to do something he’ll definitely regret to the kid. 

Tim jumped and glanced over, a small smile creeping over his face. “You’re back,” he said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I sure fucking am. And I am _not_ a halluncination.”

The kid hummed and glanced back at the screen. “I love this part,” he mumbled sleepily. 

He clearly was fighting the urge to fall back asleep, his cheek resting in his palm and his eyes drifting shut every few seconds.

“Go back to sleep,” Jason said, his fingers drumming on his helmet. The sooner the kid went back to sleep, the quicker Jason could get the hell out of here.

“No,” Tim mumbled. 

Jason was already plenty irritated by the whole situation, the kid was just layering on the frosting and the cherries on top of Jason’s mountain of irritation at this point.

“Why not?”

“Because of the nightmares,” he explained in a tone that suspiciously sounded like he was going to add ‘duh’ at the end. “I don’t wanna go back to seep.”

Jason sighed tiredly. “You look dead on your feet. Nightmares won’t kill you, you know.”

"They trap me in my own head and make me believe that what I’m dreaming is my reality,” Tim replied. 

And, yeah, Jason didn’t have a lot to reply to that. Because what was he supposed to say? He relived his death every other night and more often than not spiraled into panic attacks when he woke up. 

But judging from the occasional glances he kept casting at the kid, he would fall asleep sooner rather than later, so Jason didn’t have to bother with replying. He’d book it the second the kid nodded off and rethink his plan of revenge because now there was absolutely no way he’d be able to go after the kid without feeling bad about it. 

“‘F you’re real, why’re you here?” Tim mumbled, stifling a yawn. “You’re not a Titan.” He frowned. “I think.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at him. A little late for that question, really, but better late than never Jason supposed.

“Came to teach Bruce a lesson,” he said, not bothering with sugarcoating it. “By hurting you.”

Tim nodded. “Makes sense.”

Jason didn’t see how that made sense, but the kid was clearly floating on a cloud judging from every interaction he’d had with him thus far, so he let the flawed logic slide without question. He didn’t really _want_ to ask any questions anyways.

The Replacement shifted into a more comfortable position, resting his head on the armrest, his feet just a few inches from Jason. 

They watched the movie in silence, Jason focusing more on the Replacement’s breathing than the actual dialogue on screen. He was waiting for it to even out so that he could finally leave this godforsaken tower. He’d already been here much longer than he was comfortable with, and it was only a matter of a few hours before the sleeping drugs wore off and they woke up, and Jason intended on not being here when that happened.

He glanced over when the kid’s breathing finally evened out to make sure he was asleep. Tim’s mouth was hanging open, his palm smushed in between his cheek and the arm of the sofa. 

“That’s my cue,” Jason said quietly, turning the TV off and standing up. 

He’d just sealed his helmet back over his head when the kid twitched and mumbled incoherently. 

Jason only glanced over in mild interest before making his way towards the door, paranoia already crawling up his skin. He’d been here too long.

Realistically, the Titans wouldn’t be waking up until at least ten the next morning, but Jason’s window of opportunity to make this look like a normal blackout was getting narrower and he didn’t want to have them change the passcodes of the Tower.

If they did that, Jason didn’t care how guilty he’d feel, he was going to _murder_ the Replacement.

Jason wasn’t even halfway to the door when the Replacement cried out. He almost tripped over his own feet when he whirled around, a serrated knife already in his hand. No one was in the room, there was only the replacement Robin thrashing on the couch, his breathing labored.

Jason made his way back to the couch, scowling. 

“Can’t leave you alone for five _fucking_ minutes, you needy little shit,” he grumbled.

He grabbed the kid’s shoulder, ready to shake him out of yet another nightmare. Apparently, he’d horribly miscalculated the situation because the kid flinched violently at the contact.

“No, Mom, don’t,” he mumbled, thrashing some more. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

Jason pulled back, his vision flashing green for a few seconds. He breathed deeply and forced the anger away before focusing back on the kid. 

He should leave him. Let him be someone else’s problem. Nightmares were the least he deserved after taking Jason’s place and allowing Batman to let another kid in those cursed colors run around the same city where Jason’s murderer was still off killing people for fun. 

But Jason couldn’t leave him.

Because this wasn’t a nightmare about Robin. This wasn’t a nightmare about Poison Ivy, or seeing his colleagues die, this was a nightmare about Timothy Drake. This was a nightmare about the kid’s parents.

The green rage of the pit was still whispering to Jason to break the kid’s arm, to stab him in the abdomen and let him bleed, to grab the nearest blunt object and smash it against his knee until he broke bone. It was easier to ignore it this time around. He _really_ hated that.

The kid was _right there._ The perfect way to prove to Bruce that he should stop putting kids in Robin’s colors. 

He’d wanted to use a kid to prove to Bruce that he should stop putting kids in danger. After all Jason did to protect the kids in Crime Alley. The only one who deserved Jason’s wrath was Bruce, not some poor kid who had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He shook Tim again. “Kid. Kid, wake up.”

The kid whimpered and tried to curl in on himself.

Jason sat on the couch next to him and pulled off his helmet. He patted Tim’s arm, trying not to startle any violent reaction from him again. 

He almost jumped off the couch when Tim grabbed his arm tightly.

He sighed deeply. This was _not_ happening.

The kid’s hold tightened on his arm and Jason winced. He whimpered again and flinched. Jason pulled the kid towards him, in such a position that he was half sitting upright against Jason’s chest. He was _not_ getting punched in the face by a smaller than average fifteen year old freshman, so that left him with trying to calm the kid down.

Tim slowly relaxed in Jason’s hold and curled his hands in Jason’s leather jacket. He could only imagine how uncomfortable sleeping on a Kevlar vest was, but he wasn’t going to go through more pains than necessary for this stupid little shit. 

“Okay, kid, you can let go now,” he said to the sleeping form on his chest, who was still gripping Jason like a lifeline.

The Replacement was asleep, though much more peacefully so than ten minutes ago, so Jason wasn’t really expecting an answer. He sighed, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

“Let me go,” Jason said, already knowing there was no way he was getting out of this mess.

“No. You’re warm.”

The kid proved his point by snuggling further into Jason’s chest, his ear pressed against his heart. 

“I was planning on writing my name in your blood,” Jason tried.

Tim hummed, still smiling faintly. 

“I don’t like you,” Jason tried again halfheartedly.

 _“I_ like you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, steadily ignoring how anxious he was getting. His only options were to either wait for the Titans to wake up or call Bruce to pick them up right now and neither were very tempting. It was like asking him if he’d prefer to drink chunky milk or eat rotten lobster. 

“You’re not gonna feel like that when you wake up,” Jason muttered. “Trust me.”

Tim simply hummed. Jason didn’t think he really registered the words. Jason didn’t think the kid had registered anything that had happened all night, honestly. He was drunk without the benefits. 

Jason twirled a strand of Tim’s hair on his index finger absently, his eye caught on his phone resting on the couch next to him. 

Face potentially angry Titans once they wake up a few hours from now, or free himself from the kid’s clingy hold on him by calling Bruce?

He could call Dick. 

Oh yeah, that was sure to end well. At least Bruce wouldn’t burst into tears the moment he laid eyes on him. Tim shifted in his sleep, eyebrows furrowing, and Jason was not dealing with more nightmares or sleep-deprived Robins. He unlocked his phone and dialed Bruce’s number.

**Author's Note:**

> Bruce does, in fact, burst into tears the moment he sees Jason. Tim is still clinging to Jason like a koala and absolutely refuses to let go. Bruce takes a few pictures before convincing Jason to go back to the Manor with him. Tim is very surprised to wake up in his room in the Manor, still clinging to Jason Todd. Jason is absolutely going to hold the whole situation over his head forever. 
> 
> [come say hi on tumblr :)](https://blas-ph-emy.tumblr.com/)


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